


There's Truth Hidden In Those Lies

by FatalYaoi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalYaoi/pseuds/FatalYaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after 6, Chris finds himself face to face with the truth of Albert Wesker and struggles to fight off old feelings while battling the loss of Piers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scafeandsalivate](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=scafeandsalivate).



> Happy Birthday to the wonderful scafeandsalivate on Tumblr whose birthday passed way too long ago! I'm sorry this is so late. This holds both Chris/Wesker and heavy mentions of Chris/Piers. Also it's feely. And part 2 will come eventually.

Chris shifted in his office chair and sighed, his eyes gazing at the picture frame sitting on his desk to the left of his computer screen. He and Piers were squeezed into the picture, self taken by Piers himself who simply insisted on the damn thing after their first date as an official couple. Piers wore a silly grin that Chris couldn't help snickering at. The hazel eyes of the sharpshooter were bright and full of life, a sight that Chris had rarely seen in the brunet during their professional relationship. Picture Chris paid no attention to the camera but his eyes were locked on Piers. His fixed stare was bright but it lacked the excitement that Piers' very clearly held. Chris loved Piers, of course, but he was realistic.

They both held life threatening jobs that simply could not be ignored. Their lives were put at risk every single day and Piers seemed so excited for a future.

In the picture, Chris feared the future, if there  _was_  one.

The situation worsened whenever one was sent on a mission. They weren't always put on the same missions, after all. As Captain, Chris wasn't always assigned to the same missions. He wasn't needed for a simple recon mission, of course, but missions turned sour frequently. It wasn't unheard of for casualties to happen during even the most basic of missions and that scared Chris.

The moment the flash of the camera struck, Chris was sure there would be a loss.

And there was.

Piers passed away two months ago.

His death held meaning—or so Chris' coworkers told him. Even Jill repeated the four words almost exactly but Chris held strong, even if he felt alone.

Piers didn't need to die. Piers died because of him, much like Finn and the rest of the teams that had followed him blindly into their own deaths. Piers was dead because of Chris and people had the nerve to claim his death wasn't in vain?  _Piers_ had the future.  _Piers_  was full of life and ready to take it head-on. And Chris? Chris wanted to bow out and be left alone to his own devices for the rest of his life.

Chris' office had cardboard boxes stacked in the corners filled with Piers' belongings taken from his previous office. Chris couldn't bring himself to go through them and he wasn't entirely sure if he ever would. They were dusty and taped shut and Chris had every intention on bringing them home with him to their ex-joint apartment but he never had. Hell, most of Piers' belongings still remained in the closet, in the dressers, and scattered around the apartment and Chris made no effort to touch any of it.

Chris jumped at the sound of knuckles against his door. He sighed, straightened, and cleared his throat, quickly wiping any tears his eyes held.

"Come in," he announced, his gruff tone covering any emotion he felt.

The man who stepped inside was tall, only a few inches taller than Chris, and muscular though his black suit wasn't very form fitting and left Chris to his imagination. His blond hair was slicked back while his eyes were hidden by legendary sunglasses that reflected the office light from above. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his lips twisting into a soft smirk.

"Christopher," the man spoke quietly, his English accent distant but hearable.

Chris was stunned, frozen to his seat as the blonde slowly stepped farther into the room. Chris' gun was in the lounge, in his safe. His knife was tucked away within his desk but would he truly reach it in time? Would he even be able to move to retrieve it in his state of shock?

"Y-You're dead. How did you even get past security? YOU'RE DEAD."

"Quiet, quiet. In due time, Chris," the blond promised quietly, pulling the chair that sat in front of Chris' desk back before sitting in it.

Chris could call security. A press of the button and every agent in the facility would come running, including Jill. That worried him. Nobody would be prepared to face Albert Wesker; granted was Chris prepared for this?

"What… I don't  _get_  it. Why aren't you dead in a volcano somewhere off the coast of Africa?" Chris asked. His knuckles were turning pale from his dangerously tight fists and the amount of inconceivable thoughts running through his head were completely unbearable.

"I expected this. Spencer, for lack of better terms, created another me. His failure in the Wesker Project forced him to do such a thing; terrible, really—"

"I killed a  _clone_?"

" _For lack of better terms_ , yes. Did you truly believe I would be thick enough to, in any state, trust anyone associated with Umbrella, let alone the company created with the consortium? I'm ashamed of you, Chris," Albert taunted quietly before he crossed his legs, interlocked his fingers, and set them in his lap.

"Spencer…" Chris muttered under his breath as he began attempting to understand Wesker's words. "It was all useless."

"No, of course not. He was trying to take over the world, after all. I wouldn't have done such a thing, silly really. What could I possibly gain from proclaiming myself as a god and killing everyone who inevitably would worship me? Nothing, of course. Nobody would possibly live through the injections the Wesker children experienced."

"You did," Chris snapped.

"If I hadn't, you would currently be dead, Christopher."

Chris looked across his desk at the blond, giving him a dead stare that  _dared_  him to lie. After a moment, Chris nodded with a shrug before saying—

"Fine. How did you, Albert Wesker, save  _my_  life?"

"A name. Alex Wesker. It sounds familiar, I'm sure."

Chris froze.

"Alexander Wesker, Spencer's informant and right hand man. The one who was mentioned in his… diaries." Chris's back rested heavily against the back rest and his mouth sat agape. "I—We thought he disappeared when Spencer was reported dead."

"Alex came out of hiding when Spencer was confirmed dead and I took care of him."

"Why?" Chris asked accusingly. "Rockfort Island was—"

"—also not me." Albert chimed casually. "However, to answer your question, I have a similar goal as you, Christopher: to prevent Umbrella from returning; idiotic hyphenated name or not. Neo anything is ridiculous, really." The blond paused but when Chris didn't say anything, he continued. "I sent Ada Wong to assist your cause in Edonia, I would assume you would have caught on—"

"Ada Wong works for you?"

Albert chuckled darkly and a grin spread across his lips.

"Mr. Kennedy has his secrets, I suppose."

"Leon knew?"

"I suppose he was never truly told but how difficult could be to possibly figure out?" Wesker paused and picked absentmindedly at his finger nails. "I have proof of everything I've told you if you don't believe me."

Chris groaned and his fingers rubbed at his tired eyes to rid himself of the headache that was surely coming. Everything he was being told felt like a lie. The conversation he had with Jake Muller a week ago about why Wesker wasn't as horrible as most put him off may not have been full of lies after all—that was if Wesker wasn't going to kill him.

"So what are you here for, Wesker? Do you want a medal? Do you want to kill me and finish the job you weren't able to do during the mansion incident?" Chris snapped, hands falling back to his desk.

"You truly have forgotten," Albert sighed, sitting back as if being forced to assess the situation again.

"Forgotten  _what_? That you betrayed m—us? All of S.T.A-"

"You remember!" Albert exclaimed, placing both feet on the floor before standing up to lean against Chris' desk. "You remember."

Chris stood as well and placed both hands on his side of the desk, leaning over it just as much as Wesker. His teeth were gritted and his lips parted as a silent growl lingered in his throat. It was a challenge that he accepted—it was a challenge he would always accept.

"Of course I remember," Chris whispered, eyes narrowing.

Wesker leaned forward and closed the distance between the two. Their lips connected and Chris let out a muffled sound and pulled away, separating the two by mere inches. Chris stared at the blond for a long moment, blinking away his confusion and disorientation.

Wesker smirked and a growl escaped from Chris.

"Is this what you're here for, then? To recover something that was lost when you betrayed us?"

"I was in the process of recovering my information from Umbrella and leaving. The casualties were unexpectedly large."

"You put them in their graves, Wesker."

"I trained S.T.A.R.S and attempted to give them the needed skills they would require to live through the mansion. I may be responsible for their deaths but you, of all people—"

"Don't you  _dare_  compare me to you," Chris hissed, standing up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "I had no intention of anybody getting hurt."

"And yet they did. After everything I've told you, you believe I had intentions of casualties?"

Chris held a hand to his forehead and shook his head. It was just too much. Was he really going to believe the man who had betrayed them? The man who he had  _killed_  in Kijuju? The man he may or may not have loved a decade before?

No.

"Yeah, I believe you had every intention of the entire S.T.A.R.S squad dying. If you really weren't the villain we all know you are, why wouldn't you have exposed yourself earlier? Umbrella has been gone for years. How do you expect me to beli—"

" _ **Email Received.**_ "

"I believe there is my proof."

Chris glanced at his computer screen, watching Wesker out of the corner of his eye. Chris clicked to open the email and frowned at the single sentence he found. " _Mr. Wesker will hand you a flash drive to prove his innocence._ " Chris eyed the email and rolled his eyes at the name: clicheemailusername123.

"Not very creative on the email."

"I'll be sure to inform Miss Wong of your feelings on the subject of her email choice," Wesker smirked as he dug two fingers into his breast pocket and pulled out a small black stick with a usb connection. "This is for you and the B.S.A.A."

"Why bother having her send an email?"

"Do you truly believe you wouldn't call security the moment I reached a hand into my coat? It was insurance."

Chris eyed the black stick but accepted it and held it tightly in his palm.

"Look through the files, Christopher. I will return again."

Wesker turned on his heel but stopped at the loud scoff Chris gave.

"You're leaving?" Chris asked accusingly. "Again?"

"You don't believe me, there is the proof."

"What about your son, Wesker?"

"Miss Wong has taken care of it."

"Ada Wong is not a parent. You are. He hates you because he thinks you're a monster. If any of this is true—" Chris held up the small black flash drive, "—then he deserves to learn the truth."

"Perhaps, at another time. I have loose ends to tie up far before I include him in this."

"He  _is_  a loose end, Wesker."

"I'm well aware."

* * *

Chris groaned and fell back into his bed, his naked back chilled against the cool blankets he landed on. The brunet rested a hand on his stomach and stared at the splotchy white ceiling; the same ceiling he had stared at the day he was forced to drag himself home and accept Piers was dead. Piers was gone from his mind for the first time since Edonia and now, Wesker took his place.

Chris immediately felt guilt spread through him and he groaned, mentally apologizing to the sharpshooter.

In the end, Wesker had told the truth. The files contained evidence of Umbrella creating a duplicate Albert Wesker through the gene samples they had collected throughout the years. The project was overseen by Alex himself who reported to Spencer regularly according to the emails Chris found.

But Chris just wasn't prepared to accept the evidence.

He had spent so long chasing the evil, villainous Albert Wesker and, granted the man wasn't perfect, but he was no insane murderer. He still had special abilities and he did kill Spencer—but he was not the one Chris fought at the mansion with Jill nor was he the one who kidnapped Jill.

Albert found Jill and nursed her back to health for an entire month; however Alex kidnapped her as she was recovering and used her for her antibodies.

Albert Wesker saved Jill and finished off the last of Umbrella.

It felt so wrong.

**Ring.**

Chris sat up and sighed at the sound of his doorbell. He was almost sure it was Jill, she usually stopped by around once or twice a week to make sure he was okay and have a drink or two or sometimes six. Chris didn't bother putting on a shirt, figuring jeans were perfectly fine. He stood and made his way through his apartment, eyeing the various picture frames with he and Piers as the subjects.

It made his stomach jolt.

Chris took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted his wrist, rolling his eyes at the sight. Albert stood before him; hand in his pant pocket beneath his coat and glasses being pulled from his face to reveal grey-blue eyes.

"Are you here to kill me?" Chris asked as he crossed his arms over his chest to hide his exposed chest.

"I'm not, sorry to disappoint. Just to talk," Albert smirked as he slipped his glasses into his coat pocket. "May I come in?"

"S-Sure," Chris stepped to the side and Wesker stepped inside, looking around in interest.

Chris closed the door and watched as Wesker examined the living room intently. His eyes gazed over the leather couches Piers picked out, the television Chris bought Piers for his birthday, the paintings that Piers loved so much he bought almost instantly from the gallery down the street on their second date and finally Wesker's eyes landed on the photos in various areas of the house.

"Oh I see," he muttered, turning to Chris with a tilt of his head. "Miss Wong informed me of your relationship status with Mr. Nivans, however I didn't expect—"

"Piers died in China after injecting himself with the C-Virus to stay alive to save me," Chris said slowly, meeting Wesker's eyes momentarily before pulling himself away. "I read the files you gave me."

Wesker followed Chris towards the couch and sat himself on one of the couches, watching as the blond removed his coat before folding it over the couch arm and sitting.

"Do you hold belief in what I say?"

"What was the point of this, Wesker? To prove that you're not the villain everyone thinks you are? You're dead to the world. You could dye your hair, get a new identity, and live a normal life but instead you show up at the one building in the world filled with people that could kill you?" Chris sat back, the cold leather sticking to his back as his head rested on the cushioned couch.

"My goal is to return my life to what it was.  _Exactly_  what it was."

"You ruined that when you decided not to tell me or anybody else what was happening," Chris scoffed. "And if you want my help—"

"I want you  _back_."

"You never had me, Wesker. Get your priorities together and come back. Maybe you can date whoever the hell lives here at the time that isn't me," Chris finished in a mumble and was in the progress of standing to force the man out but Wesker spoke again.

"We lived together."

"It was logical to live together."

"And how logical was it to sleep together?" Albert asked with a smirk causing Chris to stop halfway between the door and the couch. Chris turned on his heel and sighed, crossing his arms over his exposed chest.

"It wasn't. I regret it every day of my life and I won't go through it again. Leave before Jill gets here and don't come back," Chris commanded in his best 'I'm in control' voice.

"Very well." Wesker stood and strode towards Chris, stepping up to him as Chris opened the door.

The two stood face to face for a long moment. Chris kept his left hand on the doorknob while his right was limp at his side. His eyes lingered on Wesker's grey, quietly appreciating the specs of blue scattered within the irises. Wesker's glowing red eyes haunted him for so long and yet they only ever existed on a copy; a double created to continue the legacy that Albert Wesker refused. And now Albert's eyes were back to the dull grey that Chris remembered gazing into every night and it hurt again for the first time in 5 years.

"I apologize for your loss," the blond stated quietly.

Chris didn't speak but he watched the blond turn on his heel and leave. Wesker continued down the hallway and turned out of sight. Chris sighed and closed the door, leaning back onto it before allowing his head to drift onto it with a thud.

His thoughts settled on Piers and he frowned at them.

He had loved Wesker. For several years following the mansion incident he longed for the blond and eventually turned his attentions toward preventing anything like Raccoon City from happening again, effectively forgetting Wesker was ever his lover.

Not boyfriend. Never boyfriend. Wesker simply would not have it.

And now Piers had sacrificed himself, Wesker was gone, and Chris was left broken and alone again.

Chris began for the kitchen to poor himself a drink, most likely alcoholic, but his doorbell rang again. He stopped and retraced his steps back to the door. He opened it and gave a small smile to the woman standing in the doorway. Her brown hair was out of its ponytail and resting on her shoulders. She wore jeans and a black t-shirt which told Chris it was her day off.

"Jill."

"Hey, Chris. You busy?"

"No—"

"Good," she said, pushing past him with a smile. "You  _do_  have alcohol right?"

"Yeah, why?" Chris asked before closing the door. He was slightly surprised by Jill though decided to ignore it as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Bad date. I woke up at seven this morning to go on a coffee date and what did it get me? Abandoned with a seven dollar cup of coffee," she ranted as she opened and closed cupboards until she found the jack daniels.

"Did you like the guy?"

"A little, I guess. I thought he was nice but I guess I was just comparing him to all of the perverted assholes who were asking for sex rather than a date," she sighed and grabbed a soda from the fridge before pulling a cup from one of the cupboards.

"Pour me one too," Chris muttered.

"You don't even like spiked soda."

"I meant pour me a glass of just plain alcohol."

Jill nodded and poured herself a drink before pouring his as well. She left the alcohol on the counter, turned on her heel, and handed Chris his cup before taking her own into the living room. Chris followed and sat in his usual spot, crossing his legs and putting the cup to his lips for a swig.

"What's worse is the jackass didn't even bother cancelling or texting me that he was sorry." Jill sat and leaned on the arm rest of the opposite couch. She frowned and sat up. "Whose is this?" she asked.

Chris looked towards her and found Wesker's black coat folded over the armrest.


	2. Chapter 2

A year had passed and Chris found himself in the same position he sat the previous fourteen months. Piers' belongings still remained around the house and Chris' office, Chris still couldn't get the brunet off his mind, and Chris constantly fought the guilt he deserved to feel. In the midst of all of this, Wesker's coat hung in Chris's closet. It didn't, of course, touch any of Piers' belongings but it smelled like Wesker in a way that comforted Chris; in a way that he would never admit outwardly nor would he accept himself.

To top it off, Jill had signed Chris up for various dating sites and was now sending him on dates with complete strangers. One after one, Chris was forced to sit through some of the most boring first dates he'd ever experienced. He liked a few of them, very selectively, but it never worked out nor did a second date ever occur. Chris was simply done with trying to "find his true love" as Jill put it. Maybe Piers  _was_ his true love. Maybe Chris found him, fucked up, and got his true love killed.

Jill would hear none of it, of course, and simply insisted on another date.

Chris walked into the restaurant with a vague idea of what the guy looked like; tall, light hair, leather jacket, and sitting at table fifteen. He, himself, wore a black long sleeved shirt and jeans. It was in the late evening and the Italian restaurant Jill told him to meet the stranger at was growing busy. Chris attempted to look over the heads of the people in front of him, glancing around the room at various tables in search for a number or something but he saw nothing.

The general atmosphere of the restaurant was nice. The newly named  _Giovanni's_  was a mix between a classic Italian dinner place and a nice laid back bistro. The tables near the front were small, café like with flowers on the table, a lacy table cloth, and nothing else. The tables in the back and the booths around the room were much larger with full sets of plates prepared for fine dining. The walls were decorated with caricatures of the staff, various celebrities that had visited the restaurant, and family members. Large round orange lighting fixtures were hung from the ceiling, lighting the large room in a glow of dull orange while smaller fixtures around the walls highlighted what the larger light missed.

A line of people, mostly couples, were lined in front of Chris and the lonely brunet found himself ready to leave.

"Is there a Christopher Redfield here?" a male Italian voice called.

Chris stepped out of the line and looked at the male in the suit; dark hair gelled down and appointment book in hand.

"I'm Chris Redfield?" Chris asked carefully, calling unwanted attention to himself as most of the patrons in front of him turned and glanced at him.

"You're table is waiting with your male companion."

"R-Right—" Chris muttered with a roll of his eyes.

He was going to kill Jill.

Reluctantly, he began to follow the waiter. They rounded tables and Chris glanced around at the various attendants of the restaurant and wondered distantly who Jill had possibly set him up with. She never bothered to show him a picture nor did she tell him what he liked and disliked and Chris, really, just wanted to be home in bed.

The waiter stopped suddenly and almost had Chris wander into him.

"You're table," he stated, his hand gesturing to the booth to the left of Chris.

"Christopher."

Chris groaned as his eyes fell on the blond and he immediately felt ridiculous. Light hair, leather, tall—of course it was Wesker. The jacket was smaller than his usual villainous look but it was a leather jacket nonetheless. His sunglasses were missing, showing the dull blue-grey eyes Chris fought to look away from. The jacket was open revealing a plain black t-shirt and besides the dark roots in his blond hair, Wesker looked no different.

"What are you doing here, Wesker?" Chris hissed, glancing to the waiter who looked at the two in confusion.

"I've already ordered drinks," Albert told the waiter.

The waiter, whose name tag read Bruno, nodded quickly and responded "Your waiter should be here shortly," before scurrying away.

Too bad Chris couldn't follow.

"Sit," Albert offered, gesturing to the opposite side of the booth.

"I don't think I sh—"

"According to Jill, we're perfect for each other."

Chris rolled his eyes and plopped onto the cushioned seat. He set both arms onto the menu sitting on the table and glared at Wesker as he spoke.

"Stay away from her."

"I have no interest in Miss Valentine. She saw my profile and decided we would be a wondrous match."

"And you just googled a profile picture, I assume?"

"Of course. It wasn't too difficult finding a bulky male with blond hair. It  _was_  difficult, however, finding one that wasn't nude."

Despite himself, Chris chuckled and shook his head, breaking his glare. When his eyes settled back on Wesker, they were softer causing him to sigh.

"Did you get your priorities together, then?"

"Most of them. The B.S.A.A is aware of the situation, I assume?"

"Enough. They called Leon in for questioning from America and I was even questioned but I stayed quiet through most of the questions. I have a feeling Leon did too."

"Of course he did. He wouldn't want to expose Miss Wong," Wesker stated. "I don't quite know why you remained silent."

"Don't play that," Chris muttered threateningly, eyes falling to the menu beneath his hands. "You know exactly why."

"You'd assume, wouldn't you?"

Chris glanced up and his eyes hardened once again. "And your son? Have you contacted him?"

Wesker's smirk twitched and Chris shook his head, hand pounding against the table loudly and calling unneeded attention towards their table.

"He's your fucking  _son_ , Wesker."

"Jake has no interest in—"

"HE HAS EVERY INTEREST."

"Excuse me, I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voices—" a waiter began quickly, rushing to stop the minor commotion Chris had started.

"No, it's fine. I'm leaving," Chris growled as he stood and inched out of the booth.

"Wait," Wesker sighed and stood as well. He stepped towards Chris and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I have a request—"

"You want a  _favor_?"

"I know you are able to contact Jake. I would like to request a meeting to be arranged. However, I would like you to attend said meeting."

"You want me to be there when you tell your son you're not a crazy psychopath who wasn't killed in Africa by me?" Chris asked carefully, completely ignoring the confused noise escaping the throat of the waiter beside them.

"If you could, yes."

* * *

This was all wrong.

Sherry contacted Jake and nearly had to beg him to meet with Chris. After a number was put on it, he accepted, and that's how Chris and Wesker found themselves sitting in an abandoned warehouse. It was dark but the light behind Chris' ear guided the way through the maze of dusty boxes until he stumbled upon the clearing Wesker created. Albert stood in the center across from him, arms crossed with a spotlight set up beside him. The blond was unarmed and wore a simple long sleeved black shirt over a black pair of jeans. Chris wore a grey muscle hugging v-neck and jeans, hoping to not have to break up a fight or, worse, engage in one. Chris remained just as unarmed as Albert but he carried his knife, if only for protection against anyone who might not enjoy finding strangers in a drug hideout though he was sure Wesker could handle it.

Chris found himself leaning against one of the large crates beside Wesker. Chris switched off the light behind his ear and sighed quietly as he crossed his arms.

"Where are you staying?"

"The Hilton. Left over Tricell money," Wesker muttered, crossing his own arms.

"You should stay at my place," Chris offered quietly as his eyes turned down to his feet.

"A change of mind?"

"I didn't expect you to show. That should count for something," Chris said.

"I appreciate it."

"I have a spare room. Jill won't be happy but—" Chris trailed off and looked at Wesker when he cleared his throat.

"Would you possibly go out with me?"

Chris smiled his first  _real_  smile in months and nodded slowly. "I think I can do that. I don't think we're allowed back at  _Giovanni's_ , though."

"I can live with that, I believe," the blond stated before the distant sound of a door opening and closing caught their ears.

"The look on the waiters face was kind of priceless, though," Chris chuckled quietly. He suddenly began to grow nervous as the distant echoing footsteps came closer but he knew it was a feeling in pale comparison to what Albert felt.

"Well, if he had brought the drinks faster—"

"I would have punched you and gotten myself arrested."

"This is best," Wesker stated causing Chris to shrug.

"We'll see."

Jake came into view, handgun raised and bright blue eyes flashing from Chris to Albert before looking around at the surrounding area as if expecting an ambush. His hair was still shaved as short as possible, he still wore his open black shirt and pants, and his leather gloves were still in place over his hands. His mouth was twisted into a frown as he slowly lowered his gun and stood up straight, hrumphing at Chris.

"So… what… do you want to hire me or something? Does blondie here need something done that the infamous Chris Redfield can't do?"

Albert snickered and Chris pushed off of the crate angrily.

This was another reason why he decided against bringing a gun.

"No, I don't want to hire you, Jake. Neither does he."

"Then why am I here? Sherry didn't tell me—"

"She doesn't know," Chris stated with a sigh. "Not many people do."

Jake looked at Wesker again and his features hardened as he walked, slowly, closer to Chris. His eyes remained on the blond and, with his gun still in hand, he stopped in front of Chris.

"What is this about, Redfield?" he muttered quietly.

"I can still hear you, you realize?" Wesker commented and smirked at the unbelieving look Jake gave him.

"Jake, I think it's time for you to meet your father," Chris said slowly, stepping to the side and looking to Wesker who stepped away from the crate and unfolded his arms.

"Did you really call me all the way here and waste two thousand U.S dollars just to fuck with me?" Jake asked and turned on Chris.

"Why would I do that, Jake? Look—" Chris dug into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive Wesker gave him, holding it out to him. "This explains it all but Wesker did what he had to. He saved my life, your life—"

"And my mothers'?" Jake muttered, eyeing the black stick dangerously. "And Sherry's father?"

"I loved your mother," Albert stated quickly. "But William Birkin killed himself through his work."

"You abandoned her.  _Us_. I don't care who you fucking  _saved_ ," Jake growled, turning to Wesker who remained quiet. Jake took a step towards him, the gun in his hand twitching as Jake continued. "The things I've done running from your  _fucking_  legacy. Jake Wesker, the son of the comic book villain who couldn't get his priorities straight, went crazy, and decided to try and infect the entire world with a virus that would transform them into either crazy mindless followers or giant black tentacle creatures." Jake was approaching Wesker but the blond remained standing in one place, hands on either side of him. Chris was right behind Jake, lip between his teeth and words on the tip of his tongue that never seemed to make it to his lips. "Even as I fucking ran,  _they_  found me," Jake offhandedly pointed his gun towards Chris. "And then I had to travel across the fucking world being taken captive, putting not only me but Sherry through hell, only to fight a virus that  _you_  created. And for  _what_? To have you show up after a year and half ready for family  _fucking_  reunion?"

"Wesker didn't—"

"Quiet, Christopher," Albert commanded causing Chris to stop completely.

Jake stopped in front of the blond. His grip on the gun he held shook and Chris could see the man contemplating shooting him. Chris couldn't allow that.

"He doesn't know the truth, Albert," Chris growled.

"He has over twenty years of anger to get out. Truth or not, he won't listen until he—"

A swift uppercut and the Wesker reeled. Chris spotted Jake's gun on the ground and he quickly picked it up. He took out the ammunition, tossed it aside, and disassembled the gun before throwing it across the open floor. Immediately he ran towards Jake who had just given another punch at Albert who simply took it.

"Jake!" Chris shouted, grabbing the younger Wesker from behind to pull him away from the blond. He ended up getting him to stumble backwards but Chris remained between the two with his eyes on Jake. "I understand you're angry, I do. Hell, I was lied to and betrayed too."

" _He_  isn't your father."

"Not my father but he means—he meant something to me, Jake. I wouldn't expect you to understand or even care about it but I do understand your pain and I sulked in that pain for years. I grew cold, got people hurt, and even killed. But he's alive and ready to tell you the truth. You don't think that isn't worth minutes of your time? Time that  _he_  paid for?" Chris asked before glancing back to Albert who held his jaw with a smirk. "You okay?"

"He's definitely my kid," the blond chuckled quietly.

"Don't I know it," Chris muttered before stepped from between them.

* * *

In the end, there was no father-son hug or crying moment. There was no punching match or gun show, either. Instead, Wesker explained himself and Jake listened. Halfway through, the anger in Jake's voice had gone and was replaced with mild interest, slight discomfort, and Chris saw this as a good thing despite the odds. By the end of the story, the trio had ended up on the floor of the warehouse. Jake had his right arm propped on his right leg and his back leaning against a crate, Wesker sat across from him with his legs stretched out and hands holding him up in his leaning position, and Chris simply crossed his legs.

"And now I live with Chris. I can't bring myself to clear my name to the world but the people who matter are aware of the situation," Wesker finished.

"And you and Redfield are—" Jake trailed off but when Chris and Albert simply looked at each other, he decided it was best to finish, "—together?"

"Well—" Albert began, looking worriedly towards the brunet.

"It's hard to explain, Jake," Chris said. "You see, like I said, Wesker lied to me for years. Save my life or not, he needs to make it up to me."

"And living with you is how he'll do that?" Jake asked sarcastically causing Chris to laugh.

"It's better than spending money he doesn't need to be spending on a hotel unless you want to take in dear old dad?" Chris shot back.

"I'm not that forgiving," Jake stated. "I just can't believe mom left you."

"We broke up, I slept with—" Wesker paused and Chris glanced at him, "-  _someone else_  and she realized she didn't have a place anymore."

"Was it you?" Jake asked, looking at Chris.

"N-No. I didn't know Wesker during all of this."

"Who, then?" Jake asked.

"I don't think it's very important to—" Chris began half knowing what the answer would end up being.

"William Birkin."

* * *

"You know Sherry's going to hear about that," Chris stated with a smirk.

They returned to Chris' house and called for Wesker's belongings to get sent from the hotel. Jill had been informed and was on her way to beat up Chris or Wesker, apparently she wasn't quite sure which. Wesker had settled in and was relaxing on the couch that had remained in the exact place it had been during his prior visit. Chris soon joined Wesker on the couch, setting a glass of water down for the blond before putting his own glass to his lips.

"It's going to be a fun Christmas," Wesker smirked. "My son, your sister, Sherry, Jill—"

"Why would Sherry be invited?"

"I don't know who would invite her faster, truthfully. Jake or Claire."

"Claire. Jake is too stubborn. Remind you of anyone?"

"We've established he takes after me, I believe, Christopher," Wesker said passively, sitting back. Chris chuckled quietly and took a seat across from him.

"Not enough. It was hard looking at him all through Edonia. Piers didn't understand during most of it. I never got to tell him anything about us, really so he just thought I was angry because of everything you'd done. Or didn't do. Whatever."

"Speaking of, Jill is going to be far more difficult than Jake."

"I know," Chris muttered. "I think I have it taken care of. Oh, but this reminds me of something."

Chris jumped to his feet, set down his glass, and rounded the couch towards his room. Wesker remained where he was until Chris returned, black dress coat in hand. Albert smirked as Chris held up the jacket before tossing it at the blond.

"You've kept it this entire time?"

"I wanted to burn it but I always expected you to be back, I guess."

A loud pounding caught the two off guard and Chris turned on his heel and stepped towards the door, grabbing the glass of wine he set out for Jill from the dining room table.

"CHRIS! OPEN UP!"

Chris huffed and opened the door with his left hand before offering the wine glass with his right. Jill looked at him with a deep glare before taking the wine glass and gliding into the apartment. Her eyes landed on Wesker and she turned rigid. Chris closed the door and stepped beside Jill with a smile.

"Are you  _sure_  everything on that flash drive is true?" Jill asked, glass going to her lips.

"The B.S.A.A approved it after going through the evidence for months."

"That isn't what I asked, Chris." Jill stated, turning to him after she took a large drink. "Are  _you_  sure everything is true?"

Chris glanced at Albert before nodding slowly with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm sure."


End file.
